Robert Newcomb - A March into Darkness

Leaning over the table, Abbey looked into Aeolus’ eyes. “Because even Serena’s blood, potent as it is, is not strong enough to accept such an amazingly strong Forestallment,” she explained. “Only Morganna’s blood or some derivative will suffice.”

“And Clarice’s blood is strong enough?” Aeolus asked. “Even though Wulfgar was your half brother, and his daughter is two generations removed from Morganna?”

“Yes,” Tristan answered, “provided her blood has never been imbued with any other competing Forestallments. In this, her blood is unique in the world. On bringing Clarice back to life, she will be the only living person of Morganna’s blood walking the earth with a left-leaning blood signature, and controlled by those who worship the Vagaries. When Clarice reaches maturity, thePon Q’tar will provide her mother with the Forestallment allowing all right-leaning signatures to be changed leftward at once. Serena will then grant that Forestallment to her daughter’s blood. Clarice will call it forth, forever sealing the Vigors’ doom everywhere east of the Tolenkas. It would be about twenty years before this could happen. But you and I know that twenty years is only a blink of an eye in the history of the craft.”

Aghast, Aeolus slumped back in his chair. He stared blankly down at the tabletop for some time before returning his gaze to the prince.

“It’s monstrous,” he whispered. “You’re right. This threat eclipses even the Sorceresses’ War. I assume that we three are the only Conclave members who know about it?”

“Yes,” Tristan answered. “But there is more to tell you. Despite your experiences in the Sorceresses’ War, you will find the rest of the tale difficult to hear.”

“Please continue,” Aeolus said.

“Both the Ghetto and the Recluse have been conquered by Serena’s forces,” Tristan said. “All the Minion warriors who once manned those strongholds are dead. Serena needed the Ghetto because there she could easily secure large numbers of vulnerable people all at once, rather than having to waste time scouring the countryside for them. The lepers are being taken to the Recluse and used as subjects for Reznik’s and Einar’s bizarre experiments. They are killing them and using Failee’s continually refined formula on them, trying to bring them back to life.”

“Aren’t they worried that the use of lepers might somehow alter or ruin their experiments?” Aeolus asked.

Tristan shook his head. “No,” he answered. “Dead is dead.”

Aeolus stared blankly at Tristan. “What will you do?” he asked.

“I will do the only thing I can,” the prince said. “I will order the fleet home.”

“But by now they must be near the Citadel,” Aeolus protested. “Why not let them continue on and capture Serena and her dead baby girl? If they succeed, the threat is ended and the Recluse can be dealt with later.”

“For one thing, I fear that there has been too much attrition in the Minion forces for the campaign to succeed,” Tristan answered. “Serena is being aided by the Heretics. Two ships have already been lost, and one-third of the warriors are casualties. Our forces need to come home so that they can regroup, and be joined by the highlander cavalry.”

“Will you go through the portal to give this order?” Abbey asked Tristan.

Tristan shook his head. “I would like to, but I mustn’t,” he said.

“Why not?” Aeolus asked.

“You’re forgetting something,” Tristan said. “Crysenium’s existence is a secret, and must be kept that way. If I am captured, the information might be tortured from me. Nor may either of you go for the same reason. For the time being, we must allow no one with the fleet to understand my true motives for ordering them home. To do so could alert those at the Recluse. Instead, I will send a letter back to Shailiha, citing her recent losses as the only reason for my decision. I suspect that given the situation, she might soon come to that decision on her own, anyway. When our forces return we will quickly ready another invasion fleet, including the highlander horsemen. Then we will sail for Parthalon and lay siege to the Recluse.”

“We will attack the Recluse?” Abbey asked. “Not the Citadel?”

“That’s right,” Tristan answered. “We can only guess at whether Serena remains at the Citadel, but weknow that Einar and Reznik have taken sanctuary in the Recluse. Stopping them from completing the formula will be as effective as capturing Serena and Clarice. Both are needed for the Heretics’ plan to work.”

Aeolus thought for a moment. “If thePon Q’tar are in possession of a powerful Forestallment that alters all blood signature lean at once, then why haven’t they used it against their enemies on their side of the world?” he asked.

“They tried to do so, aeons ago,” Tristan answered. “And they nearly succeeded. Luckily, the Ones got wind of it and developed a counterspell. Millions were converted before the Ones could turn the tide.”

“Why can’t the counterspell be used on this side of the Tolenkas to protect us?” Abbey asked.

“I asked the Envoys the same question,” Tristan answered. “Simply put, there isn’t enough time. You must remember that our knowledge and power in the craft is infantile compared to that possessed by the Ones and the Heretics. I was told that our learning to employ the spell could take far longer than the time required for Clarice to grow old enough for her blood to accept the needed Forestallment.”

Tristan stood from the table, walked to Faegan’s desk, and looked through its drawers. He soon produced a parchment, an inkwell, and a quill. After giving the issue some thought, he penned a letter to Shailiha. When he had finished he placed the letter in an envelope, sealed it with hot wax, then removed his signet ring and forced an impression into the fresh wax.

He turned toward the door. “Guard!” he called out.

At once the doors opened. A sturdy Minion warrior entered the room and clicked his heels.

“I need to see Kratos,” Tristan said. The warrior bowed, then left the room. Kratos soon appeared. Tristan beckoned him closer and handed him the letter. He gave the warrior a stern look.

“This might be the most important mission of your life,” he said. “When Faegan’s portal opens tomorrow at midday, you are to enter it and return to the fleet. Give that letter to Princess Shailiha. She will surely pen another letter back to me. Bring it back as fast as you can. Until then, you are to guard this letter with your life.”

Kratos bowed.“Jin’Sai,” he said solemnly. As he turned and left the room, Tristan returned to the meeting table.

Silence reigned again. Abbey put one hand atop Tristan’s. “Will your stated reason be enough for Shailiha to obey your orders?” she asked.

Tristan turned to look into the fire. “It has to be,” he said. He turned back to worriedly look at the herbmistress and newest Conclave member.

“If the Conclave doesn’t come home soon,” he added softly, “all is lost.”

“COLLECT A SAMPLE OF HIS BLOOD,” ONE OF THEM SAID.“It is time to test our latest discovery.”

The harsh words awakened Xanthus. As he came around, he found himself in the same room where he had been interrogated twice before. Azure bands again bound him to a simple chair. A glowing light shone down on him from overhead, its stark beacon the only reprieve from the darkness. Although he was weak, Xanthus had yet to be harmed. Their faces bathed in shadow, twelvePon Q’tar clerics again sat at a table across from him.

Xanthus watched with fear as a cleric pointed at him. With his powers gone, he could do nothing but wait for the agonizing pain. But this time the suffering never came. Instead he felt a slight tingling in one wrist, nothing more.